


Two Plus Two Equals a Bushel of Potatoes

by squid (triesquid)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Cadman - Freeform, Episode s01e06 Poisoning the Well, Episode: s01e04 Thirty-Eight Minutes, Episode: s01e10-e11 The Storm/The Eye, Episode: s01e17 Letters From Pegasus, Episode: s02e04 Duet, Episode: s02e06 Trinity, Episode: s02e08 Conversion, Episode: s04e06 The Instincts, Evan Lorne - Freeform, F/F, John makes questionable decisions in the midst of pining, John-centric, Kavanaugh, M/M, Miko - Freeform, Moresomes, Oblivious John, Other, Pining John Sheppard, Post Trinity, Simpson - Freeform, Threesome - M/M/M, illicit lube making, sage!Teyla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 22:01:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triesquid/pseuds/squid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How is John supposed to react when he accidently discovers that his best friend (i.e., Rodney) and Carson and Radek are evidently in some sort of long-term threesome?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Lab Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for: Not really except for the presence of certain minor characters from canon...Miko [Letter to Pegasus], Simpson [Thirty Eight Minutes], and Kavenaugh [Thirty Eight Minutes & The Gift]
> 
> Author's Notes: Title is from the West Wing episode "Noel". The inspiration for this fic originates with this completely wrong, wrong, wrong, and disturbingly nummy picture of David Hewlitt on which you can feast your own eyes.
> 
>  
> 
> This was my first foray into the land of threesome/moresome--even in a pre-relationship way--a LONG time ago. Ugh 

_It couldn't be. Naw, I'm just imagining the resemblance._  But John didn't think he was. He was almost one hundred percent certain that the picture before him was Rodney McKay. A very young McKay. Nude. With wings, a halo, and  _way_  too much makeup. Nude. Flipping off the camera. Nude. Above the picture read, 'Den of Genius, Iniquity, and Debauchery'. Below the picture, it read, 'Despair all ye who enter here.' And did he forget to mention McKay was  _nude_?  _No, no, no. no—this can't be Rodney. And why would it be blown up and on **display**  outside the lab?_  
  
Smirking to himself at the ludicrousness of the situation and the amazing choking-gasps of rage McKay would invariably make, John stepped into McKay and Zelenka's private lab where all the  _really_  cool explosive and dangerous shit lived. Ancient technology that could be set off by an idle brush of fingers or, on one spectacularly  _pink_ occasion, an idle  _thought_.  
  
No McKay to be seen.  
  
But—  
  
But there was a Zelenka—back to the door, crazy hair flying as he muttered to himself in fractured English.  
  
"Hey, doc," John said in sotto voice on the chance that Zelenka was working on something delicate. Don't startle the nice scientists with potentially volatile technology and tempers, that was John's rule. "Do you have a second?"  
  
Zelenka looked over his shoulder; glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose, a broad smile crossing his face. "Time is relative as is all else, what may I do for you, Colonel?"  
  
 _Okay, philosophic-Zelenka. That's new._  "I was just wondering about your new lab plaque—"  
  
"Hysterical, yes?" Zelenka interrupted, bouncing up off his stool to jitter excitedly about the lab tables. "Rodney brought picture back from Earth so we could make 'Keep Out' sign." John felt his eyebrow moving towards his hair.  _No mating. I already have too much hair to fight with._  John was about to make a comment about the sign, but Zelenka plowed forth in a nearly McKay-rant-whine-pout. "Although, it would serve him right if it were without his permission since  _he_  goes back to Earth willy-nilly and leaves  _me_  in charge of children pretending to be scientists. How Rodney manages control, I know not." Zelenka paused to raise a hand to tick off the insanity that inundated the scientists. He even  _looked_  like McKay.  _God, they've been hanging around each other too long._  "Forget for moment that they are barely competent in Newtonian physics and horrific in anything more complicated." John knew that was an exaggeration. Rodney has told him, under threat of cold showers and blue hair, that his scientists were the best. Just that genius also breed eccentricity and the best way to deal with them most of the time was to insult their ability to comprehend the most  _basic_  of things. "Miko  _cries_  at everything and there is no consoling her. Kavanaugh is idiot. Brilliant, maybe. Idiot, most definitely. Refuses to do work he thinks beneath his 'genius'. And Simpson,  _Buh_ ,  _Simpson_ —I open storage closet, she is there. Every time. Man, woman, indistinguishable, but tasty. Doing impossible things. I cannot get her to cease."  
  
John tried not to laugh, tried not to show that he  _knew_  how McKay had dealt with Simpson, Miko, and Kavanaugh.  
  
When Kavanaugh would start in on his carefully worded, practiced rant about the oppression of his talents, Rodney would verbally bludgeon him into subsiding. Then, he would quietly tell him that if he wanted anyone to believe him,  _stop_  being such a wanker and  _prove it_. Then, he could boast all he wanted about his oppressed intellect—one save in a year plus was not a record, let alone a  _good_  record.  
  
With Miko, John had been surprised to see McKay go out of his way to make her laugh, distract her, and, on occasion, speak quietly with her about how overwhelming Pegasus could be. And, slowly, she had cried less and less.  
  
Evidently, McKay's absence had set her back a bit.  
  
Simpson—well, Simpson has been easy. McKay had asked her, told her really, but he had included a 'please' somewhere; for the sanity of the entire lab, if for no other reason, to keep her trysts out of the main lab and out of his and Zelenka's private lab.  
  
Zelenka's eyes had narrowed while John was trying  _not_  to laugh. "You know something." Statement. John was so busted. "You know how to make Simpson stop."  
  
"I—" And John realized that he  _didn't_  know how to make Simpson stop. He knew what McKay had done to curtail her a bit. "Rodney asked her keep her conquests out of the main lab and  _this_  lab. That was all."  
  
"I do not understand. Why just those labs?"  
  
"He wanted her to stay out of your guys' private lab because of all the stuff that could go 'boom' if someone who didn't know better decided to play with something they shouldn't. The main lab had more to do with the fact that it's communal, the technology has been deemed 'safe', and the military personal wander in and out without a qualm. McKay didn't want any of Simpson's military friends being found out."  
  
"Huh." Zelenka pouted. "Guess cannot order her elsewhere. Will get tie to hang on door to warn the unwary."  
  
"Speaking of warning the unwary." John redirected the conversation before they could get off on another tangent. "The picture's a 'Keep Out' sign?"  
  
"Of sort," Zelenka said moving towards the coffee pot in the corner. "Mostly is to deter new military and scientists out of lab until they are less likely to explode something." The fact that it could be Zelenka's or McKay's tempers was left unsaid. Zelenka turned back to face John, coffee in hand and a mischievous grin on his face. "Also to irk Caldwell."  
  
John couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "You're trying to piss off Caldwell? What did he do and is this the only retribution you have planned?"  
  
"Retribution?" McKay's voice came from behind John, making goose-bumps raise on his skin. "That's an awfully large word, please don't hurt yourself. And no, it's not our only planned vengeance, but the less you know about our plans the safer you'll be. Plausible deniability and all that jazz." McKay appeared next to John, facing him with that caustic smirk that no one who knew McKay wanted pointed at them. "As for what he did, not taking Kavanaugh away from here is enough of a crime."  
  
Zelenka snorted. "But Bates would be angry from lost bed-warmer, so maybe for best, yes?" John didn't know how to respond to either statement. Luckily, Zelenka continued speaking as if John was not there and he had not just outed Bates with, ewww, Kavanaugh. "Is good you are back, though ridiculously high spirit for having spent morning waist deep in desalination tanks fixing twit-Kavanaugh's calibrations."  
  
McKay stepped to the other side of the lab bench with one of his wild, manic grins firmly in place. "Watcha need, Radek?" Rodney stopped in mid-step. "You didn't set off a catastrophic reaction or something, did you?"  
  
Zelenka snorted. "As if." McKay looked as if he didn't trust Zelenka as far as he could through Ronon—assuming Ronon would permit himself to be subject to a toss-a-wench. "Fine.  _Ano_ , set off reaction earlier, but fixed now. Why I need you is to test lube."  
  
 _Erugh?_  John held very still, afraid he'd broken something in trying not to react outside of his head.  _Lube? Why are they brewing lube? Couldn't they get lube from Beckett with the resupply possibilities? God, I can't believe I just thought that. And why do they need lube anyway? For machinery maintenance? Okay, that was just stupid._  
  
"Which batch is this?" McKay said as he stepped beside Zelenka, completely ignoring John's presence.  _I really might as well be invisible. Maybe I should just leave before I get anymore information I don't need._  
  
"Cherry. Edible. Why Carson wishes cherry let alone  _edible_  is mystery." Zelenka's wild, gleeful smile reappeared. "Not complaining. Everyone should be so lucky. Such a wicked tongue under vanilla exterior."  _Yeah, too much information._  
  
John began to back slowly out of the lab, but he saw McKay's mouth quirk up for a second before he said, "Yeah, we're lucky." Then, McKay seemed to return from his fuzzy thoughts. "So, lube, cherry—how should we measure quality control?" John could hear the leer even though he couldn't see it.  
  
John backed the last few steps out of the lab, but couldn't help but hear Zelenka's murmured "Few ideas."

* * *

John spent the net week observing Zelenka, Beckett, and McKay—not that this was unusual or even unexpected. SSDD and all that. But he had found a new level of obsession. How did they interact? Did it affect their working relationships? Was it obvious that they were—what? A couple? A trio? When had this  _happened_?  
  
And the questions kept multiplying like cracked-out rabbits.  
  
Yet as John watched, nothing seemed different. McKay still insulted Zelenka's intelligence and called him everything  _but_  Zelenka to wind him up. He still referred to Beckett as a witchdoctor and medicine as voodoo. The comments about inappropriate dealings with sheep continued to fly with the same frequency and ease.  
  
Beckett and Zelenka still snarked right back and insisted upon bringing up McKay's fainting episodes.  
  
And McKay rolled his eyes with the same exasperated frustration he used with John and small children when he wasn't trying the save the galaxy for the sixth time today, thank you. Beckett and Zelenka passed affection laden amused looks between the two of them.  
  
SSDD. Nothing new here. Although John has thought that maybe those looks were different, but when he joined the trio for a few meals, the interaction was exactly the same and he was included just as if he belonged there—amusement, teasing, affection, snark, and all.  
  
That warmed a part of John that he tried not to look to closely at.  
  
John watched their interactions with others and found the similarity of inclusion devastating.  
  
Either they had been together for a very long time or they were very inclusive in their domesticity.  
  
Again, John tried not to look at that place—closely, farly, ever.

* * *

So it was surprising to John when he found himself sitting in the mess, by himself, at way-too-late-o'clock staring at the ceiling.  
  
"Colonel Sheppard?" Teyla's voice jerked him from his contemplation.  
  
"Teyla." John looked at his watch and scrubbed a hand over his face. He's lost some time somewhere. "What are you doing up so late?"  
  
"I just returned from the mainland and did not wish to disturb Kate or Elizabeth's work." John felt an eyebrow attempt to take up residence in his hair. Teyla, Kate, and Elizabeth were having a thing?  _Naw, you mush have misunderstood._  But, for the seventh time in as many days, John didn't think he had.  _Did I tumble through a quantum mirror to the world where everyone on Atlantis is gay?_  "And I thought I would have some 'hot chocolate'." Even in the statement, the question of if she had said the phrase correctly was implicit and reinforced by her hand motion towards her mug.  
  
"Yeah, hot chocolate's nice when it's late and you're tired and cold." John responded, indirectly letting Teyla know that, yes, she had pronounced it correctly. "Please, sit with me."  
  
Teyla smiled, sweetly pleased. She sat quietly, sipping her cocoa for a few minutes before the question came that John was dreading. "Why are you still awake, Colonel?"  
  
 _Oh, hell. Teyla never could leave well-enough alone._  "I'm just thinking." John said with a shrug, body language oozing 'please don't ask'.  
  
"Yes, but what subject has kept you wakeful?" Guess she didn't speak John Sheppard.  
  
And, evidently, she wasn't going to let it go. "A hypothetical situation." Teyla waited. John remained silent. Teyla arched a brow.  _I'm not going to explain._  He wasn't. Teyla could sit expectantly forever as far as John was concerned. "What do you do when someone you didn't even think was capable of having a relationship turns out to be all-but-married to two  _guys_?"  _Damnit._  
  
Teyla's posture straightened an infinitesimal amount. "You should be happy that they found love." A simple answer.  _It can't be that simple._  
  
"Yeah, but  _two guys_?"  
  
"Colonel, it is uncommon amongst my people for three people to mate, but it does occur." Again, that sweet smile. "My father's father had two mates—my father's mother and his second father. And when she was lost, they were of great comfort to each other." Teyla looked down as she twisted the cup in her hands, as close as John had ever seen her get to nervous fidgeting. "In the shadow of the Wraith, we find hope and love where we can. Life continues, often in unexpected ways and with unexpected partners. And those matings are among the most stable, the most likely to survive the loss of one that they love. Their weaknesses are halved and their strengths are innumerably increased." Teyla looked back up at John, wariness and maybe even fear in her eyes. "Does it bother you so much that McKay, Dr. Beckett, and Dr. Zelenka are a mated-triad?"  
  
John considered that.  
  
What was bothering him?  
  
He actually found it oddly sweet that McKay, Beckett, and Zelenka were together—a puppy-pile of snark and intelligence and hidden tenderness.  _No_ , John though.  _I really **don't**  have a problem with them together. Maybe that they haven't  **told**  me—_  
  
That gave John pause.  
  
Teyla knew they were a—what did she call it?—a mated-triad.  _Does everyone know but me? How did I manage not to notice?_  John looked back at Teyla and said firmly "No, it doesn't bother me that they're a 'mated-triad'. I guess I was just surprised is all."  
  
Teyla smiled that enigmatic smile that made John want to beat her over the head with one of her own sticks and stood. "That is good and it is now time for me to collect  _my_ wayward mates."  _Huh, guess I didn't misunderstand._  Teyla turned, but stopped and turned back to John. "Colonel— _John—_ where a mated-triad is uncommon, a mated-quartet is rare. But not unheard of." And, as quietly as Teyla had come, she left.  
  
 _Mated-quartet? What's that supposed to mean?_  Did Teyla think that he was  _interested_  in McKay, Beckett, and Zelenka?  _Uh, no._  That was ridiculous.  
  
They were his friends.

Yes, he could appreciate that they were attractive in an abstract sort of way: Rodney's down-quirked mouth, Carson's forearms, Radek's clever-quick hands.  
  
And all three had blue eyes.  
  
John had always loved blue eyes. Especially on guys. It was like an exteriorized manifestation of some crystalline purity. From Ricki Wilson, John's kid-sitter when he lived in Dallas, to David Murphy, his best friend in high school, to Daniel Jackson, when he had first met him in Antarctica. There seemed to be truth there and hidden strength and a daring that John could only hope for. Which, John realized, was a completely inaccurate statement, but waxing rhapsodic about blues eyes and guys was fine.  
  
Permissible.  
  
Safe.  
  
And Rodney, Carson, and Radek all had that perfect clear blue that was the same as the Antarctica sky.  
  
So— _no_ —not interested in McKay, Beckett, and/or Zelenka. Friends. In a relationship. Together.  _And how do the logistics work with more than two people?_ John wondered, rising to return to his quarters thinking he might finally be able to sleep.


	2. A Triadic Interlude

Rodney curled into Carson's chest, the reverberation of Carson's heartbeat tingling through his fingers as Radek's even, hot breath brushed against the back of his neck as his supple fingers traced equations into the hollow of his hip. "Have either of you noticed that the Colonel has been acting more strangely than normal—even for him?" Rodney asked in sleepy contentment, his mind just sorta—floating.  
  
"I have not, but I am not as hyperaware of Colonel as you are," Radek murmured, clever fingers trailing up to trace a different set of numbers across his sternum.  
  
"Really, Rodney, I would think that two lovers are more than sufficient," Carson said with a soft chuckle. "But you are a greedy lad."  
  
"I am completely content with my two lovers—even though they aren't as smart as me—" Carson bit Rodney's shoulder hard as Radek's fingers moved to a ticklish spot on Rodney's side, causing him to squirm. "Ow, and they're abusive," Rodney practically shouted, again glad that the rooms muffled noise to near non-existence. "And I am not hyperaware of the Colonel in anyway, shape, or form," Rodney huffed as he buried his face in the crook of Carson's neck.  
  
"Oh, aye, you are not overly aware at all. You're nigh on obsessed with the man." Carson said as he poked Rodney in the side just above where Radek had poked him, causing him to nearly teseract to the end of the bed in a fetal position.  
  
Radek and Carson laughed in unison.  
  
"Mean, mean, mean," Rodney chanted as he crawled back between Radek and Carson—forehead against Radek's shoulder and Carson's chest flush with his own back. "And I'm not obsessed. The Colonel's been—I don't know. It's like he's always watching us." Rodney felt and heard the look that passed between his lovers above his head. "I'm not making it up."  
  
"No, Rodney, we did not think you were," Carson soothed, running his hand down Rodney's arm sending a pleasant shiver through his body. "We're giving you a hard time, is all."  
  
"Colonel has been awfully—attentive, though," Radek murmured into Rodney's hair. "Perhaps he has discovered we are together, yes?"  
  
Rodney stilled, surprise and shock stiffening his body as a horrible realization hit him. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he exploded, sitting up. "He can't have missed it after our little chat about lube in his presence."  _Fuck, I'm supposed to be a genius. How could I have made that big of a mistake?_  
  
Carson's startled eyes met his. "Wha—"  
  
" _Buh_ , cherry," Radek snarled, hitting his fist against he mattress. "Must have forgotten his presence."  
  
"But aside form his new stalker tendencies—which, really, did he go to the John Day School of Inept Stalking?—he hasn't treated us any differently, has he?" Rodney asked, wringing his hands together anxiously.  _Please, please, **please** , let him not be wigged by this._  
  
Radek and Carson both shook their heads and Rodney relaxed slightly, though he knew from the look in Carson's eyes that he and Radek were going to have to explain how his cherry lube featured in this predicament.  
  
"Maybe he was not surprised. We are not the only permanent threesome on Atlantis. Nor are we terribly subtle," Carson said softly, as he attempted to soothe Radek and Rodney to lie back down.  _Carson, always with the mother-henning..._  
  
Rodney flopped down onto his back and pulled Radek and Carson down so they were laying half on top of him. As if they could form some sort of defensive perimeter between him and the rest of the universe for a little while.  _As if._  "That's possible, I suppose," Rodney conceded. "What I can't figure out is how we managed to have a conversation about lube in from of the Colonel without realizing he was there."  
  
"Anticipation of Carson and cherry lube was distracting?" Radek asked fidgeting in frustration and self-derisive-crankiness.  
  
Rodney watched Carson twine Radek's jittering fingers with his own and hold them against Rodney's chest.  _Such a pretty picture._  "Maybe it's that we all consider him a part of our little group." Carson almost whispered. "We speak of him often enough—in a way, he  _is_  a part of our relationship with each other."  
  
"Do you think so?" Radek's fingers visibly tightened as hope crept into his voice.  
  
"Aye, love, I do." Carson said in that comforting-bedside-in-bed voice he had that always wrecked merry hell on Rodney when he was stuck in the infirmary. "But that does not mean that you can run off and ask him to join us, Rodney," Carson said with a sharp poke to Rodney's chest just as Rodney was about to open his mouth to say something snotty.  
  
"But Carson, if he's interested and we're willing to include him—"  
  
"Carson is correct. You are greedy, and we cannot."  
  
Rodney pouted cutely—a pout he had actually learned from the Colonel. "I don't understand why we can't," Rodney added a whine to his pout.  
  
"You're being obtuse, Rodney," Carson said resting his chin on Rodney's chest so he could look him in the face. "Presuming for a moment that John is even likes men, this is still a wee bit of a sticky situation. It's not just approaching one or two people, it's approaching three. And I know for a fact just how difficult two can be."  
  
"Come on, Carson," Rodney said, threading fingers through Radek's wispy hair, a hand stroking down Carson's back. "We weren't  _that_  scary."  
  
"I beg to differ there. You flirted with  _everything_. I had no idea if you were a couple or not. And I was terrified I was doing something that would ruin our friendship together. Cliché, but true." Carson glared, sitting up so that the glare was angled to kill Rodney was certain. "Just because the two of you do not have the parochial conception of relationships being  _two_  people does not mean that we are all so inherently blessed in our open-mindedness. Add to that the Colonel's government's military and the very real possibility that he has never had a relationship with a man because of those rules—"  
  
"Okay, Carson. I get the point. This requires subtly—which is not my forte."  
  
" _Ano_ , bludgeoning to death by Rodney's personality. Not pretty sight."  
  
"Mean," Rodney sing-songed, then sighed. "But true. How do we do this subtly?"  
  
"We cannot treat him any differently."  
  
Rodney smiled mischievously, nudging Radek. "So no leering at him in the halls?"  
  
"No copping feel at movie night?" Radek caught on very quickly. Rodney knew there was a reason that he liked him...other than the sex. And the mind. And the accent. And— _You like everything Radek. Just admit it._  Yeah, he liked Radek, loved him dearly.  
  
Though he'd never let anyone else know that.  
  
Rodney picked the verbal-ball back up. "I guess leaving him offerings of condoms and chocolate are out too."  _Tag, you're it._  
  
"Cannot build shrine and dance naked chanting," Radek lamented and for a frightening moment, Rodney nearly believed that Radek  _had_  a Sheppard-shrine squirreled away somewhere.  
  
 _No. That's not right. At all._  
  
But it was oddly hot.  
  
Then another visual image superimposed itself.  
  
 _Ew._  
  
"That could be workable. It's got subtly written all over it," Rodney snarked. "If you're name is Helga G. Pataki. Do we need to get you a big, pink bow?"  
  
"You two are horrid, horrid boys." Carson rolled his eyes. "You might scare the lad with your madness if you are not careful." Carson sighed and settled back against Rodney's shoulder, tracing the long scars on his arm. They were still red and angry after all these months. Rodney wondered sometimes if they would ever fade. "We will have to wait for him to come to us."  
  
" _Ano_ ," Radek sighed, stilling Carson's fingers.  
  
"Yes, yes,  _fine_. No approaching the Colonel to see if he wants to join my harem." Rodney waited for it, waited for the words to sink in.  
  
"Rodney!" Carson and Radek's pillows connected with his head. 


	3. Carson-centric Musings

For Carson's part, watching John fight with himself was driving him completely 'round the bend.  
  
And then some.  
  
At least, it seemed that they had a definitive answer as to whether or not John was interested.  
  
If John's schizophrenic actions could be read as an answer.  
  
For days at a time, John would sit with Rodney, Radek, and himself at every meal. He even went so far as to round the three of them up and herd them into the commissary for meals together. He would laugh and speak in a liquid-rush of words and eyebrows.  
  
It seemed as if he were trying to find a place for himself within their group, to ease into the question that would, eventually, come.  
  
And that was fine. Better than fine.  
  
It showed that he was, at least on a subconscious level, working his way through the problems that would be inherit in this relationship.  
  
John should really take all the time he needed.  
  
And Radek and Rodney didn't proposition John or even overtly flirt.  
  
Maybe Carson should reconsider his opinion that Rodney couldn't do subtle.  
  
And they would watch John—all expectation and barely disguised affection. Snipping and snarking like they  _weren't_  quite quietly mad over the lad.  
  
Not that Carson blamed them.  
  
He had found it very easy to love John on a multitude of levels.  
  
But it hurt.  
  
'Cause there would be stretches of days in which John was all but a ghost—a glimpse of reflection or his too-thin frame sitting alone in the commissary, cup of cooling coffee in his hands.  
  
As if he didn't think he should be with them.  
  
Like it was wrong.  
  
Or, maybe, it was more of a  _couldn't_  have them.  
  
And that was what was driving Carson mad.  
  
He wanted John to take his time, to work it out in his head, but he was also hurting himself with the push-pull routine.  
  
He was hurting Radek and Rodney.  
  
And, as much as Carson would deny it to anyone, John was hurting him to. Killing him with every cold-ghost disappearance.  
  
It had to stop.  
  
And it had to stop soon.


	4. Stumbling Towards Something Real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for: "Duet" and The Kiss [capitalize as appropriate for Rodney/Carson snoggage. Yay!].

John didn't know what happened.  
  
One moment he was joking with Lorne over the comm and the next there was the sound of the 'Gate dialing and the high scream-whine of a Wraith dart.  
  
And McKay was gone along with Cadman, and Beckett was down, and John was shooting at the dart, his only conscious thought that he wasn't going to let the bastards keep Rodney.  
  
Then, the dart was down, and Carson was trying to help the Wraith and John was shooting it as he reached for the self-destruct and getting an earful from Carson.  
  
They dialed the 'Gate and dragged a completely freaked Radek through to try and fix whatever the Wraith  _did_...  
  
And wonders of wonders, John got to choose which little blip of light got rematerialized 'cause it was obvious that there would be debate and hesitation and they  _really_  didn't have time for that now.  
  
By some strange luck, John had chosen right and Rodney appeared.  
  
And promptly collapsed.  
  
Then, they were hauling wreckage and Wraith and an unconscious-Rodney back to Atlantis.  


* * *

  
Everything was kinda fuzzy between the first minute on Atlantis until the time Rodney was safely ensconced in the infirmary.  
  
While John was sitting next to McKay's bed, berating himself for not having taken better care of his spaz of geeks, Beckett had appeared with a mug of something that smelled like mulled not-cider, saying a soft, "Here, lad. Drink this."  
  
Next thing John knew, Rodney was waking up and John had lost several hours.  
  
 _Damnit, Beckett drugged me._  And that bothered John. That he hadn't even thought about Beckett slipping him something in his drink.  _They trained me better than this._  
  
But, when Rodney began to speak, John realized that everything was more pear-shaped than usual.  


* * *

  
  
And it had continued to become even worse as Cadman pushed Rodney to put the moves on Dr. Brown. Evidently, Cadman was even more oblivious than John.  
  
Radek was jittering in frustration every time John went to the labs to see how the de-Cadman-ing was going.  
  
Carson was torn between shock and amusement after The Incident—capital letters beyond appropriate—with Dr. Brown and a Cadman-controlled-Rodney kissing her and then doing her best 50s 'I want you'-Rita-Hayworth-romantic-dreck at Carson.  
  
Which,  _really_ , how Carson had  _not_  know that was Cadman, John couldn't fathom. Rodney occasionally  _minced,_  but he had  _never_  sashayed.  
  
And when Cadman-via-Rodney had pulled Carson into a fierce, awkward kiss, John felt something inside shatter into pieces.  
  
They looked so  _right_.  
  
They  _were_  right—McKay, Zelenka, and Beckett.  
  
There was no room for anyone else.  
  
How could there be?


	5. A Radek-centric Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for: Still in "Duet"-land.

Radek watched as John pulled into himself more and more.  
  
Cadman's kiss had skewed John's entire perspective. Radek could tell.  
  
They had never been affectionate in public.  
  
The better to remain below radar, my dear.  
  
And the one time— _the one time_ —there was PDA, of course, John was there. Already miserable and torn and not completely sane in a conventional sense.  
  
He saw.  
  
Even if it were Cadman in Rodney's body.  
  
And, obviously, he had misread.  
  
Idiot.  
  
Could he  _not_  see how much they wished for him to join them?  
  
Obviously not.  
  
A new plan needed to be formulated.  
  
Subtly was not working.


	6. A Bit Left of Acceptable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for: It's "Trinity"-time.

  
_Oh god, oh god, ohgodohgodohgodohgod..._  John curled into a tighter ball in the corner of his shower. John needed to leave, to run away, to transfer, to  _something_. He couldn't stay. Not after Arcturus. There was no way.  
  
No way he could face Radek and Carson with the knowledge that he had very nearly widowed them.  
  
For no good reason.  
  
Because once—just  _once_ —he wanted to put that gleeful smile on Rodney's face.  
  
So that Rodney would see  _him_ , not Colonel Sheppard.  
  
It had failed in a spectacular fashion.  
  
Rodney had blown up the better part of a solar system with the help of the Ancients.  _And what is with those morons? They leave horrible nanite viruses laying about, Wraith prowling the galaxy, and weapons of infinite destruction just **sitting**  there for their hapless descendants to find. Were they completely stupid?_  
  
But, it had required Rodney's ginormous brain to actually bring it back to life.  _Just in time to nearly kill us. Yay, us._  
  
But, what was killing John—what had him hiding from the world in his  _shower—_ was the fact that he had allowed his emotions to get the better of him.   
  
He didn't understand why he was so desperate to get McKay to smile.  
  
To get Zelenka to joke and snark with him.  
  
To get real, unpained chuckles from Beckett.  
  
It didn't make any sense.  
  
 _They're your friends, John._  His inner Greek chorus berated him as the water nearly scalded his skin, but he was so cold, still so cold.  
  
 _Then how could I have spoken to McKay like that?_  
  
John had been angry, but not really at McKay. Okay,  _yes_ , he had been angry at McKay, but that had more to do with not listening to anyone.  
  
Rodney made a mistake.  
  
It was bound to happen eventually.  
  
 _Surprise, he's not Superman after all. He told y'all that a long time ago. But he has to be so absolutely brilliant and competent that he seems to be able to pull miracles out of nothing._  
  
But they hadn't remembered that. The Law of Big Numbers said it would happen eventually—become more and more of a statistical probability as time went on.  
  
It surprised John that McKay was accepting his mistake, attempting to make amends.  
  
Zelenka made sense.  
  
McKay loved Zelenka, lived with him. Of course, he needed to fix that.  
  
 _Hopefully, it'll be that simple._  
  
But John was just his team-leader. It made sense to apologize, but there had seemed to be more to it than that.  _I'll win back your trust._  
  
What it was, John had no idea.


	7. Metamorphosis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for: "Poisoning the Well", "Instinct", and "Conversion".
> 
> Author's Notes: The verbatim dialogue comes from www.gateworld.net transcripts.

John seethed as his team and Beckett walked back to the 'Gate.  
  
Beckett and McKay had both been injured this time.  
  
And it was all John's fault.  
  
It was always John's fault.  
  
He shouldn't have permitted Beckett to go offworld.  _Definitely_  shouldn't have let him bring his retrovirus anywhere in the same  _continent_  as a domesticated-Wraith that desperately didn't  _want_ to be a Wraith.  
  
And she had been such a sweet creature.  
  
A case study for nature versus nurture.  
  
 _It didn't keep her from eating people._  
  
Which was true, but she hadn't  _wanted_  to, hadn't reveled in the fear and fight and adrenaline.  
  
Not until John had let Beckett bring that retrovirus to her.  
  
And her desperation had turned into action into feral über-Wraith.  
  
And she had tried to eat John after hurting Rodney and pimp-slapping Carson across a clearing.  
  
And Carson would feel he had another life to stain his hands red. Hoff revisited.  
  
But John was responsible for killing her. Ellia. A gentle creature with no choice in having been born a monster.  
  
John gripped his gun tighter and let his steps match the throb in his arm, in his head.  


* * *

  
  
 _click  
  
click-click  
  
crack   
  
thwap_  
  
John could feel his heart beating steadily despite the fast-lethal dance of wood, flesh, and determination.  
  
John grinned at Teyla. "Not bad, huh?"  
  
Teyla smiled one of her enigmatic half-smiles and nodded a bit of salute. "Yes, yes. You're doing very well."  
  
 _click_  
  
 _click-click_  
  
 _click_  
  
Competition.  
  
Battle.  
  
Hunt.  
  
 _clickclick  
  
thwap_  
  
"You have been practicing." Teyla's tone was all encouragement, but her eyes showed the slightest hints of confusion.  
  
John tossed one of his practice-sticks aside. "Not really."  
  
 _ **crack**  
  
click-click-click-thwap  
  
crack  
  
thwap  
  
click-click-click  
  
clickclickclick  
  
click- **crack**_  
  
And John was pushing Teyla against the wall, stick to her throat, with ease.  
  
"You are showing—a considerable leap in ability, Colonel Sheppard," Teyla said, the slightest bit out of breath, wariness making her eyes large.  
  
Teyla was slick and hot and smelled of sweat and leather.  
  
John wanted to live in that smell.  
  
"You can call me John when we're off the clock."  
  
The wariness left Teyla's eyes at the seeming return of the Sheppard that she was familiar with. "Very well.  John."  
  
John felt his mouth twist into a smile, but it felt strange and feral on his face. "There ya go."  
  
John saw the wariness return to Teyla's eyes as he continued to study her.  
  
There was a strange hunger twisting in his gut, screaming  _yesyes **do** ittakeheryes_.  
  
"Should we continue, or do you—" Teyla dropped her eyes just the tiniest bit to the left and that was the signal for the hunger to pounce.  
  
John smashed his lips against Teyla's.  
  
Possession that became nothing.  
  
The hunger roared in frustration  _doittakeherconsumeher_. John pulled as Teyla pushed and sanity and reality came crashing back.  
  
 _Oh god, Teyla's gonna kill me, slowly, with Elizabeth and Kate watching._  
  
But Teyla just blinked.  
  
"I'm not really sure what just happened," John said as he took another step away from Teyla.  _More like 'what the fuck was that?'_  
  
Teyla pressed a hand to her throat where John had shoved his practice-stick. "Colonel—"  
  
"That was interesting."  
  
John's comm clicked and then he heard Beckett's voice, tinged with anxiety. "Colonel Sheppard, please report to the infirmary."  _Thank whatever deity looks after poor hapless Airforce Colonels._  
  
John looked over at Teyla. She didn't look like she was going to kill him, but she didn't look that great either. "You okay?   
  
Teyla smiled. It wasn't quite her 'everything's fine, nothing to see, move along' smile, but it was a smile. Though, the out-of-breath thing was breaking the illusion a bit. "Dr. Beckett will be expecting you."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
And John ran away as quickly as possible.  


* * *

  
  
"Dr. Beckett," John said softly, coming into Beckett's private office. "I think I may have a problem."   
  
The hunger tore through him again, but—different.  
  
And John couldn't stop himself.  
  
He spun Carson around, pressed him into the wall and immediately started to bit his throat, sucking flesh, nipping sharply.  
  
"Colonel," Carson's voice barely registered. " _John_."  
  
John ignored him and pushed his tongue past Carson's lips, claiming him, finding peppermint and surprise and the barest tinge of fight-or-flight.  
  
 _Mine_. The hunger growled deep in his chest. John kissed Carson harder, practically attacked him with his tongue.  
  
Carson wasn't kissing him back.  
  
Carson was passive against John, permitted himself to be kissed but offering no reciprocation.  
  
 _No, not mine. Damnit._  And that sounded suspiciously like John and not this new ravening hunger-possession-desperation.  
  
Carson's hand was threading through John's hair, petting him in a kid-comfort way. As if to say, 'When you're done, I'll be here and we can talk about this.'  
  
"Carson," John heard McKay say as the door  _hissed_  open. "Could I have something, my back and head are still killing me and Radek is driving me nuts—oh."  
  
 _Oh_. Rodney must have just realized John was kissing one of his boyfriends. Or the Hunger was. But the Hunger was becoming John and John the Hunger.  
  
Could he sound anymore cliché?  
  
John reasserted himself and barely managed to pull away from Carson.  
  
"Rodney," Carson slipped from John's hands and stepped around and away from him—which hurt more than it should have really. "What did you say you needed?"  
  
Rodney looked vaguely startled and began to stammer. "N-nothing. It can wait. I'll-I'll just come back later."  
  
John straightened himself and firmly told the raging-instancy in the back of his mind to  _sit and **stay**_.  _There's something really wrong with me._  "No, McKay. I'll go. It'll be better that way."  _Yeah, now that I've betrayed you and tried to steal one of your boyfriends...what is **wrong**  with me?_  
  
As John approached the door, it  _hissed_  closed and clicked several times, locking securely. John pushed at it with the part of his mind that lit up Ancient devices.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
"John," Beckett's vice sounded deadly serious. "You are not going anywhere until I've had a look at you."  
  
John hit his head repeatedly against the door, cursing it and Atlantis softly for not listening to him the  _one_  time he desperately  _wanted_  it to.  
  
"And I think we need to have talk, Colonel." McKay sounded weary and like he had had more than enough.  
  
John turned back to face Beckett and McKay and was surprised to see that McKay's head was leaning against Beckett's shoulder and that neither man looked remotely upset. "Please, Doc. Let me go ponder the immensity of my stupidity, and I'll come back in a while for the poking and the prodding."  
  
Beckett shook his head. "I apologize, John, but I cannot let you run about when you are obviously unwell." McKay opened his mouth, about to snark or whine or complain, but Beckett slapped a hand over his mouth. "I will keep Rodney and his conversation on the back burner 'til after this crisis. Is that a deal?"  
  
John sighed and nodded.  
  
 _It just keeps getting better and better._  


* * *

  
  
John was hiding.  
  
In his quarters.  
  
Not very original, John would be the first to admit, but it was working so far.  
  
His blue-scaliness was nearly gone and his eyes were back to their not-cat-slitted-not-yellow.  
  
All of which was of the good.  
  
Very good.  
  
Exceptional, even.  
  
But—  
  
Beckett had told John that he wasn't going to keep McKay leashed much longer.  
  
That was it.  
  
No indication what McKay wanted to chat with him about—just un-leashed-Rodney.  
  
Hence, the hiding.  
  
John wasn't certain he could handle a  _truly_ , legitimately, self-righteous-Rodney rant.  
  
John wasn't certain he deserved that much attention.  
  
The conversation was going to happen, going to happen soon.  
  
He could hear it now.  
  
 _You tried to steal Carson._  
  
 _Really, McKay, I didn't. It was the changing-into-a-giant-über-Wraith-bug. I swear._  
  
 _I don't care. I don't want you to come near any of us unless it's in an official capacity._  
  
And it would be over. No more Rodney to play with or Carson to murmur soothingly; no more Radek to say impossibly funny things and swear in Czech.  
  
John would be alone again. Only this time, the aloneness would be complete and without relief.  
  
 _It's only what I deserve. I've made such a mess of it all._  
  
The door chimed sweetly.  
  
 _Not here. Go 'way._  
  
The door chimed again, followed by a resounding series of knocks.  _Leave it to McKay to find the **exact**  place to create a sympathetic vibration._ "Colonel, open the fucking door." Another resounding knock. "Don't make me take this door off its hinges."  
  
"Lemme 'lone, McKay," John growled, pushing at the door with his mind to ensure it  _stayed_  locked. "And it doesn't have hinges.  
  
"The equivalent then," Rodney snapped. Then, in a near heart-breaking whisper. "John, please—" And John heard the door unlock even though John was certain he hadn't done it.  
  
The door  _hissed_  open, and Rodney, Carson,  _and_  Radek came into the room.  _Okay, this is crowded._  "Y'all here to beat me up or something," John said, aiming for levity, humor,  _something_ , but not even getting the same dimension.  _Stupid, stupid, stupid._  
  
Beckett's eyes darkened in worry while Zelenka stepped closer to Beckett, but McKay just gave him a lopsided, quirky half-smile. "We can if it'll make you feel better, Colonel." And god help John, it looked like McKay was  _flirting_.  _Couldn't be that lucky._  
  
"Don't call me that." John covered his face with his hands, drawing his knees up to his chest, blocking out the three men that had slowly been twisting his world side ways.  
  
"What? Colonel?" McKay's voice sounded vaguely amused but incredibly sad too.  
  
John just nodded, hands still firmly in place.  
  
"John," there was Radek's sweet voice, nearer, practically at John's side.  
  
Just his name.  
  
No title. No weight of two galaxies upon his head.  
  
Just his name.  
  
Then, the mattress dipped as someone sat down. A rough-warm hand clasped his ankle—holding him in place, stabile and trapped and safe in ways he hadn't felt in what seemed like forever. "John, you do not have to be brave and strong all the time," Carson's voice came from near John's feet.  
  
"You have friends, John," Rodney said from the opposite side of Radek. Clever fingers stroked through his hair. "You're not alone. You have us—if you want us."  
  
"No, I don't," John hoarsely whispered. "I don't have any of you, and I shouldn't. I haven't taken care of you the way I should have. I nearly  _lost_  you. I  _have_  lost you." And that was all it took for John to begin to shake, to crumble as all the rage and terror and despair and guilt began to boil through his skin in a silent torrent of choking-hitched breaths and hot tears.  
  
And arms came around his shoulders, his waist, a head on his knees as warm hands moved through his hair, trailed down his limbs.  
  
And then the murmur-soft words began.  
  
"We've got you, love."  
  
"You idiot, we're right here. We're safe. You're the one with the desperate need to play the suicidal-hero."  
  
"Not alone. We will fix."  
  
The words kept coming; sometimes, they were sharp reminding him that he wasn't a superhero that always saved the day, but mostly they were just words of comfort: platitudes and promises that couldn't hold up but were heartfelt all the same.


	8. Triadic Intersession

After what seemed like hours, John's trembling subsided.  
  
A short time after that, John's harsh not-sobs trailed away into even, deep breathing.  
  
"He's asleep," Rodney said in a sotto voice, too soft to disturb John. Carson looked up at Rodney from where he had his head nestled in John's stomach, arms around his waist.  
  
Radek and Rodney were curled protectively around John's head and shoulders—John's face buried in Radek's neck as Rodney held him tightly from behind.  
  
"That's for the good, Rodney," Carson spoke just as quietly as Rodney had, voice thick with fatigue. "He's been running himself raged the last few months. He needs the sleep."  
  
"Should we leave?"  
  
"I don't think so."  
  
"Ssh," Radek hissed. "Sleeping."  
  
"Guess that answers that," Rodney said snuggling more firmly into John.  
  
"Ssh."


	9. 'Cause I'm Still Awake

Bright light slashed across John's eyes, pulling him towards consciousness and a day he was no where near ready to face.  
  
John turned over and encountered warmth. He opened his eyes and looked up into fuzzy and scruff.  _Radek?_  
  
Radek was there.  
  
In his bed.  
  
Sleeping.  
  
"You are awake then?"  
  
Or not.  
  
 _Hell._  "Uhuh," John grunted as non-committally as possible.  
  
"You do not fool me." Long fingers ruffling John's hair. "You wake instantly, I am certain." His fingers strayed to John's cheek, along his throat. "Carson and Rodney had to leave—"  
  
"What happened?" John sat up, dislodging himself from Zelenka's embrace. "Why didn't someone wake me up? Why aren't you helping McKay?"  
  
"John, wait—calm yourself." Radek's surprisingly  _not_  weak arms got around John's waist and halted any progress he might have made. "There was no emergency. Carson was needed on mainland to treat farming-related injury. Not bad, just infection could set in. Rodney is fighting with sensors. They are possessed—again. It is early,  _too_  early to be awake." Radek was all matter-of-fact assurance.  
  
John wondered if he had learned it in self-defense against Rodney.  
  
 _Against outside-the-lab-Rodney. I'm in bed with one of Rodney's boyfriends._  
  
John tried to extricate himself from Radek's arms, oddly  _not_  wanting to leave the warmth of bed and body. "I really should get up, do the military-leader thing—"  
  
"Carson ordered you to sleep today—at very least, until today's crisis manifests." Radek's arms loosened but didn't release John. "You are still not cleared for full duty."  
  
"I feel fine, Zelenka—"  
  
Radek sighed in exasperation. "Should really call man you wake up in bed with by given name. Is only polite." Radek paused and the fingers laced across John's stomach did an odd fluttery thing and tightened slightly. "Unless you do not know my given name?"  
  
John sighed inwardly. "Radek, I  _really_  should—"  
  
"Carson said no. He bid me remain here to enforce his orders. And obey them you will." John wilted.  
  
There were several things John had learned since stepping onto Atlantis, and one of them was to never disobey the orders of Zelenka when he used that insanely forceful tone of voice.  
  
Hell, even  _Rodney_  listened to that voice.  
  
Well—usually. There was one notable solar system devastating exception.  
  
 _I'm still amazed that Radek didn't kill McKay when we got back._  
  
Radek and Carson had been waiting when they reached the control room. Radek was flushed with anger and Carson was a silent presence behind him, pale and scared. They had embraced Rodney fiercely. John had heard Radek whisper  _Miluju te_. Then, Radek had proceeded to yell something that was completely not reproducible in John's mind and left.  
  
John had watched—angry at himself, angry at Rodney, angry at Elizabeth and Caldwell and there was Radek and Carson—absolutely livid, yet still the first thing either had done was hold Rodney, affirming that he was alive and real.  _Then_ , they had proceeded to rip him a new orifice.  
  
They cared enough to  _get_  angry.  
  
And there had been a chill between them, but it hadn't lasted long. Noticeable and enough to cause Rodney a great deal of pain but not long.  
  
Not long at all.  
  
 _But he **had**  deserved it._ Part of John had whispered.  
  
The same part that had wanted to hug Rodney hard and beat him with the nearest blunt object.  
  
The same part John  _really_  was trying to ignore without a great deal of success.  
  
"We were angry with you also."  
  
John started at Radek's quiet words, having almost forgotten Radek's presence. "Pardon?" The non-sequitor throwing John a curve.  
  
"During Arcturus-debacle. Carson and I were angry at you also."  
  
John stiffened, tried to pull away from Zelenka's too-comfortable embrace. "How did you—"  
  
"Same expression as return." Zelenka held John tighter.  
  
"Oh." Something in John cracked just a little at the knowledge that Zelenka and Beckett held him responsible. "It's understandable. I was the one that pushed Elizabeth to let McKay give it another try. I mean, I know Caldwell was threatening the Pentagon-dogs, but I was the one—"  
  
"You are deliberately obtuse." Zelenka's fingers lay against John's jaw, urging him to  _look_  at him. "We were angry because we nearly lost you too." Radek leaned his forehead against John's, looked up at John with those translucent sky-eyes. "We would have— _I_  would have—"  
  
John nearly said something as a myriad of emotions skittered through the shadows that formed in Radek's eyes, almost asked 'what' or 'why' or any number of other stupid questions.  
  
Then, Radek's lips were on John's, and he wasn't certain who had kissed whom.  
  
It wasn't the prey-consuming of John's kiss with Teyla.  
  
It wasn't even the confused-hunger-passion of John's kiss with Carson.  
  
Hell, it wasn't even that much of kiss—a press of lips, a soft nip, warm fingers, and warmer breath.  
  
It felt like a promise and an explanation.  
  
Radek pulled away and John felt more alone in that loss of contact than he had since his mother had died.  
  
"Do you understand?" Radek almost-whispered, a little breathless.  
  
 _That's a good question._  
  
Did John understand?  
  
John's mind jittered. Loose pieces of information flittering around, grasping for connection, resolution.  
  
Zelenka's eyes flicked to the left.  
  
And John heard it.  
  
Two extra sets of breaths behind his back.  
  
Beckett and McKay.  
  
"I-I should go," John stammered, rising from the bed, going to walk out of there and go—where?  
  
"It's your room." The  _you idiot_  hung unspoken in McKay's voice as he and Beckett drew closer. "If you want us to go, just ask, but  _stop_  trying to run away from us."  
  
"Rodney," Beckett's voice was both a warning and a soothing caress.  
  
 _I want this._  
  
And that simple thought caught John sideways.  
  
 _I want this._  He tried again, amazed at how simple, how easy it felt.  
  
 _I want this, them— **all**  of them. I want to be a part of what they have._  
  
It couldn't be that simple, but it seemed like it was.  
  
 _The trick is to let yourself have what you want._  His mother's voice echoed from years past.  _If you can do that, you can achieve happiness._  
  
But he couldn't want this, could he?  
  
To fuck, be fucked—hell, admit it, being a  _relationship_  with arguably the best friends he had ever had? Who were, you know,  _guys_? Just 'cause he was okay—more than okay—with their relationship with each other didn't mean that was what he wanted—  
  
Right?  
  
 _John, where a mated-triad is uncommon, a mated-quartet is rare. But not unheard of._  Did Teyla know something John hadn't realized himself?  
  
He looked up and saw Radek still looking at him with those clear eyes, but there was something else there now, maybe it had always been there, something akin to wonder, to hope—to love.  
  
John looked back at Rodney and Carson and was surprised by the similar expressions on their faces—although Rodney looked angry as well.  _Good to know some things never change._  
  
John looked each of them in the eye in turn, dredging together as much confidence as he could muster, knowing that as soon as he said it, it would be real and no longer his to control.  
  
"I want this."

**Author's Note:**

> Czech in story:  
> Buh, God  
> Ano, yes


End file.
